Tag Archives: Quillfyre

NaPoWriMo Day 4 Write a Blues Poem

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Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a blues poem. This was rather a fun one to do.

Carol A. Stephen

Moocher Blues

Don’t want that man hangin’ round my door
Said I don’t want that man hangin’ round my door
Bringin’ me that heartache like he done before

He bring me his laundry, he bring me his trash
Yeah, he bring me his laundry, he bring me his trash
He bringin’ me down when he ain’t bringin’ cash

Don’t want that man hangin’ round my door
No, I don’t want that man hangin’ round my door
If he ain’t good for nothin’, he ain’t sweepin’ my floor

He sleeps in the mornin’, then he’s readin’ all day
I said he sleeps in the mornin’, reads in bed all day
He ain’t good for nothin’, jus’ gets in the way

Tuesdays he packs up, takes himself off somewhere
yeah Tuesdays he packs up, takes himself off somewhere
Come payday Friday, he creepin’ back up my stairs

Don’t want that man hangin’ round my door
Said I don’t want that man hangin’ round my door
Bringin’ me that heartache like he done before

Carol A. Stephen
April 4, 2012

NaPoWriMo Day 3

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Carol A. Stephen

 

 

 

Today we are to write a wedding poem, and it’s supposed to celebrate the wedding, I know. But I just wasn’t feeling quite that way:

 

Un-Epithalamium for an Unwedding

There could have been a wedding.
There was a certain meeting of the minds,
both living in worlds of word and rhyme,
a hum of language, clever tongue riffs.
We might have written our collaboration poem,

1893 wedding

1893 wedding (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

a later-life unfolding, celebration and ceremony,
a song in the key of nurture and safe haven.

There could have been a wedding.
There were painted wooden roses,
two plain gold bands, the dress.
The list of guests was ready,
the invitations bought.
There could have been a wedding.
There was not.

Carol A. Stephen
April 3, 2012

NaPoWriMo Day 2

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Carol A. Stephen

Well, I wrote it and then forgot to post…Today’s prompt is to write a poem inspired by the song that was #1 the day you were born. My song is Heartaches, by Ted Weems (although the version I prefer was much later by The Marcels) The song is rather angst-y …

Happy Heartaches to You Birthday Song

I was born under the sign
and sound a heart makes
when it aches
with the burn of lyric
into memory, the sacrament
of kisses that sear into flesh
stigmata of love song
an anthem to heartbreak
that only the 1940’s evokes
if you’re old enough to remember
you now wish you could forget.

Carol A. Stephen, April 2, 2012
On April 13,1947 Heartaches by Ted Weems was #1

NaPoWriMo 2012 Day 1

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Well, today I combined the prompt from Poetic Asides’ PAD challenge to write a communication related poem with NaPoWriMo’s triolet challenge. I will be the first to admit my triolet skills are rusty indeed.

End Notes

These words must say what there is left to say
to end this thing that changes love to hate.
At start who’d know that we would see this day
these words must say what there is left to say?
Such trite regrets and sorrow and dismay
we’ve left so little now it is too late.
These words must say what there is left to say
to end this thing that changes love to hate.